Doctor Who: The Show Goes On
by Keira Anne
Summary: The Doctor goes on. That is his life. Always running, never stopping, never looking back to the people that are left behind. But their show goes on without him. Ganger Doctor/OC
1. Regenesis

**Chapter 1: Regenesis**

A puddle of Flesh rested on the cold, brick ground of the abandoned monastery turned acid factory. It twitched slight, every fiber within it screamed in torment as agonizing pain coursed throughout its form. Though the body had collapsed back into raw Flesh the mind of the Ganger was still intact and semi-aware of its surroundings. It could tell that the massive amounts of acid being brought up from the ground was spreading throughout the halls of the monastery, slowly melting them. Liquefied brick mixed with the acid was spilling down the walls, eating away at the ground and creating a deadly cloud of choking gas that lingered in the air.

It had to do something and fast or else the acid would burn the Flesh beyond repair, not only causing more pain, but most likely killing it as well.

The Ganger focused all of its energy, forcing each cell and molecule of its being to reform. First muscles formed just beneath the surface of the Flesh, giving it more mass and making the skin grow taut. Then the nerves and veins were created and pushed back into their proper spots. Finally the bones were cemented into place giving it a definite shape and the outer Flesh, that would be skin, rose off the form and changed colors taking on the appearance of clothes. Where once the puddle of Flesh laid was now a very human-esque male figure.

His eyes shot open to see several drops of acid brick fall from the ceiling and he rolled over in time to avoid being hit by them. The droplets struck the floor and holes quickly appeared in the stone slab as it disintegrated.

The Ganger tried to breathe out a sigh of relief but couldn't and realized only too late he had neglected to form any of his internal organs aside from the brain. The pain disappeared and was replaced by an all-consuming numbness as blood refused to flow without a heart to pump it.

More acid rained down from above narrowly missing the Ganger as he laid there struggling to shape the rest of his body. Organs hastily regrew from left over Flesh inside his body; intestines, kidneys, liver, stomach, lungs, first one heart and then its twin, and a voice box.

Labored pants echoed off the walls as the Ganger struggle to catch his breath. Slowly he eased himself up onto his hands and knees, not yet strong enough to stand, and carefully crawled across the floor. There was still something else he had forgotten, but he couldn't tell what.

Nearby two more puddles of Flesh rested silently. The melted Ganger of Jennifer Lucas was alone in the middle of the hall, while the Ganger of Miranda Cleaves was slowly pouring out of the abandoned acid suit next to him.

"Cleaves..." the Ganger croaked, his newly formed vocal cords uncomfortably stretching. "Come ol' girl, you're all right. Pull yourself up by your boot straps so we can get out of here."

He prodded the oozing Flesh gently with his fingertips to provoke a response, but none came. The Ganger hung his head in dismay. There was no saving her. Cleaves was gone.

A low growl grabbed his attention and he looked around before his eyes rested on the remains of Jennifer. The puddle begun stir and bubble violently and four grotesque, elongated limps shot out, clawing at the ground for support. Once they had firm grip on the brick floor they pushed down lifting the puddle into the air. The raised Flesh spilled down and a twisted body that resembled more of a monster than a sweet young woman haphazardly formed.

The Ganger gulped, struggling to get to his feet. His muscles were weak and they screamed in protest as he put his whole weight on them. "Jennifer," he half warned, half pleaded, trying to reach out to any humanity left within her.

Rearing its head, the monster roared before charging, showing that any traces of Jennifer were long gone. The Ganger turned to run but his legs wobbled and gave out, sending him crashing to the floor. The creature leapt, its jaws stretched wide with anticipation.

But in mid-lunge the monster's body quivered before losing its form completely, morphing back into raw Flesh and splattering to the ground.

The Ganger sat up and eyed the puddle carefully. "Couldn't hold yourself together, could you?"

The splattered Flesh fidgeted with life and began to regroup. It moved over to Cleave's remains and absorbed the puddle, growing larger as it did.

"That won't work," the Ganger protested, backing away. "Assimilating more Flesh isn't going to stabilize you! Jennifer, please listen to me. I can help you," the Ganger begged.

The monster reassembled bit by bit, it's body now double in size and considerably bulkier taking up most of the space in the hall. It hissed in pain as acid from the ceiling burned its back. From its stomach, large chunks of Flesh sploshed to the floor as it continued to deteriorate.

It came upon the Ganger for a second try and he continued to back away, never breaking eye contact with the monster. He just had to keep it at bay for a few more moments. Then its body would collapse in on itself again.

The monster seemed to be just as aware of this fact as the Ganger and it lurched forward to finish its final act of life.

There was a faint crackle and a shot of blue lightening flew towards the monster, striking it dead center in the chest. The monster lit up as hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity surged through its form. It gave a final, horrific screech before its body exploded into a million pieces, the smaller chunks of Flesh vaporizing into the air from the intensity of the shock.

The Ganger had shielded his eyes from the bright light but slowly lowered his arm once the noise ceased. His skin tingled from the charge that lingered in the atmosphere and the scent of electricity and burnt flesh overloaded his sense of smell making him sick to his stomach.

Even after everything Jennifer had done, it didn't deserve to die that way. _She_ didn't deserve to die like that.

"There's someone down here!" a woman's voice came from behind the Ganger.

He looked back and through the faintly lit corridor he could make out the shapes of multiple figures. They were dressed in bulky acid suits and approached him cautiously, undoubtedly the rescue party that Cleaves had sent for. One shined a torch directly at him and the blinding light forced him to cover his face again.

As his eyes adjust to the light he caught his own reflection on the glass of his wrist watch and he suddenly remembered what he had forgotten; his face. It was half-formed, a dead giveaway for anyone that he was a Ganger.

Hoping that the group hadn't seen his mistake, he pulled his face together and lowered his arms even than slower than before, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible. The group slowly approached him. There were six people in the group, five men and a woman, but he couldn't see their faces clearly. The leader of the rescue party came up to him first. He had clutched within his hands a taser roughly the size and shape of a traditional shotgun. Wisps of smoke drifted off the end of the taser as it cooled from use and it made the Ganger uneasy.

"Are you all right?" a second man asked as he pushed passed the leader. He had a red cross displayed on the shoulder of his suit, the sign of a medic.

"I-I'm," the Ganger started before falling into a coughing fit. Choking gas. It had been filling the room for some time and now it was impossible to not feel the effects of it. His lung and throat ached from the acid as it burned them from the inside.

The medic knelt down, digging through the brown satchel that hung from his shoulder and placed a clear, plastic mask over the Ganger's mouth. "Deep breaths," he said in a soft tone, with just the slightest edge of authority. Fresh, clean oxygen filled the mask and the Ganger gratefully obliged taking in as much of it as possible.

"Torres, Hodge, get him to the evac transport," the leader ordered, titling his head back the way they had come. "Everyone else, you're coming with me. We'll look for more survivors."

Look for more survivors. There was something important about that sentence. Something very important about it, something that the needed to be said involving that sentence, but the Ganger couldn't think about that now, all he could think about was how wonderful the oxygen felt, how wonderful it tasted.

The medic and the lone female member of the rescue team helped the Ganger to his feet and escorted him out of the crypt. Though the walk only took minutes it felt like hours. The Ganger's strength was refusing to return and he stumbled every few yards forcing Torres and Hodge to lift him back into a upright position and finally put his arms over their shoulders to carry him.

They made it out of the monastery and into the courtyard where a large propeller-less helicopter awaited them. All around the walls were crumbling. Between the acid eating away at the interior and the bombardment of gamma radiation it had endured, the ancient building would not survive to see the dawning of another day. The woman, Torres, ran ahead into the helicopter to prepare it for takeoff, leaving Hodge alone to help the Ganger.

The cool night air prickling against his face felt just as good as the fresh oxygen giving the Ganger a much needed boost of stamina and making the walk to the helicopter easier. Once they were both inside, the medic laid the Ganger down onto a stretcher that folded down from the wall and secured him in place with a harness, preparing him for when they lifted off.

"I'm going to give you a mild sedative," Hodge explained as he reached into an overhead compartment and pulled out light blue oxygen mask. "You'll be unconscious for about an hour, by then we'll be at St. Cloud's." Hodge switched the two masks, placing the blue one over the Ganger's mouth before he could argue.

The effects of the sedative were instant. All of the pain and aches the Ganger felt vanished and his body and mind relaxed. Mild probably wasn't the right word for it. It may have been designed to only last an hour, but it was also meant to knock out a person within the first breath. With a Time Lord physiology it would take a bit longer. He was worried about the prospect of ending up in a hospital but there wasn't much about it he could do at the moment, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

Under the influence of the drug the Ganger's mind wandered. Even though he had the 900 plus years of memories from his original self he was only a few hours old. And most of that time was spent as a puddle of goo, trying to gain (or regain) a proper form. He'd accomplished quite a lot for being a 'new born'. He got to talk to himself, help change Amy and Cleave's minds forever about the concept of what is human, and to top it all off, got to save the lives of half a dozen people, including his original self. And now - now he was doing what the Doctor did best; cheating death. The Flesh was an amazing thing, but it had its limits. It couldn't replicate the Time Lord's regeneration process, his survival was all his own. Not bad at all for his first day of life.

Then it hit him, like a bolt of lightning, like a car into a brick wall. Like, well, like a lot of things. The third thing he had forgotten. The acid leaking everywhere, the choking gas. How could he be so stupid!

A shot of adrenalin canceled out the sedative and the Ganger jerked up, ignoring the harness as it dug into his chest and shoulders. "The coolant system has been shut down!" he shouted.

Hodge was by his side in no time and was already trying to wrestle the Ganger down on to his back. "Relax, let the sedative do its job." Torres had heard the commotions from the cockpit of the transport and ran out to help Hodge restrain the Ganger.

"No, no!" the Ganger cried out, fighting against them. "You don't understand! Rory! Jennifer tricked him into shutting down the coolant system! The whole monastery is going to be blown to kingdom come!"

Torres stared at Hodge is disbelief, her head slowly shaking no as the gravity of the Ganger's warning sank in.

"You have to get the others out of there. N-now!" The Ganger's voice slurred as the adrenaline died down, allowing the sedative to kick back in. He stopped struggling, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn't force himself to fight anymore. The world grew hazy and dark and Torres and Hodge's distressed voices became fainter and further away.

He slipped into unconsciousness, and even in his deep, peaceful, medicated slumber, he could feel the helicopter take off, and tremble violently as the blast wave from the monastery exploding struck it.

* * *

**A/N: I came up with the idea for this story shortly after watching The Rebel Flesh and The Almost People. Took me this long to actually write it down. The Ganger Doctor got the short end of the stick, even if he did die in a very Doctor-ish way.**

**Technically classified as an AU story, but I've tried to write it in such a way that it could actually meld into the official universe without much stretch of the imagination.**

**Tried my best to clear up and fix any spelling and grammar mistakes, but I'm no professional and very much human, so it's not perfect.**

**Reviews are always welcomed and desired. So if you want me to continue, please tell me, or this story will be left where it is.  
**

**Doctor Who and its characters are copyright of the ****British Broadcasting Corporation** (the BBC).  


**Everything else is copyright of Keira Anne.  
**


	2. St Cloud Prison

**Chapter 2: St. Cloud Prison**

It was a typical morning inside the walls of the St. Cloud Royal Hospital. The staff was rushing about in a constant hectic state, attending to patients, filling out paper work, and attempting to keep high traffic areas sterile and pristine.

The problem was, there were far more patients than normal. Everyone had been prepared and took shelter when the first solar tsunami stuck Earth, but no one was ready for the one that followed until it was too late. Thousands of people were rushed to hospitals all across the country, suffering varying degrees of external burns and massive gamma radiation. St. Cloud was no different. They were overcrowded as it was, and more and more victims were being brought in by the hour as more people succumbed to their injuries. Makeshift rooms with nothing but a bed and white curtain surrounding them had been set up in the halls, lobbies, cafeteria, anywhere there was an inch of free space.

Amongst the relatively controlled chaos, a young woman dressed in a white hospital gown with matching slippers and a light blue dressing gown wandered about the building. She stayed out of the way of the nurses as they wheeled patients in and out of the makeshifts room.

In a moment of weakness she gave into her curiosity and moved aside a curtain to sneak a peek at a new arrival. Her stomach churned when she saw an elderly man, the entire left side of his body blackened and blistered with fourth degree burns. She yanked the curtains back and moved away, one hand over her mouth and another clutching her stomach.

'I thought curiosity killed the cat, not made it sick its stomach,' she thought. After a minute the nausea slowly subsided.

The girl was Sawyer St. Cloud. She was young, barely 18, with flawless, pale skin that came from years of never feeling the sunlight against it, and straight, waist length black hair that went down her back emphasizing her monochrome appearance. The only trait about her that didn't fit the black-and-white persona was a pair of violet eyes that shined out from underneath her dark fringe.

The reason why she shared the name of the hospital was not chance or coincidence. To say that the St. Cloud family was rich was a grave understatement. The family had single-handedly paid for the construction and bought only the newest, high tech equipment for the hospital's use. It seemed only fitting to have building named after them.

This is where Sawyer had spent that last twelve years of her life; trapped within a house of healing, unable to leave the confines of the walls that surrounded her.

The funny thing about it all was that there wasn't actually anything wrong with her. At least that was the opinion of every medical professional that ever examined her. Test after test, doctor after doctor, no one could tell her or her family what was wrong. All they knew was that she needed to stay in the hospital where she could be watched and monitored. It was frustrating being too healthy to be cured, but too sick to be free.

The wail of an ambulance siren announced that more patients would be brought in soon and Sawyer headed back to her room to give the staff all the space she could.

Even her wing of the hospital had not been immune to the overcrowding. Around a dozen makeshift rooms had been set up in the hall since she had left and Sawyer had to be careful as she walked around them.

To keep herself from spying on the badly injured newcomers she stole glances into the permanent rooms, in them she saw many familiar faces. The people in that particular wing of the hospital were long term patients, those who would never leave St. Cloud, and would most likely end up taking their last breaths in the hospital. Most of them were elderly with their entire lives behind them already. It made Sawyer jealous. She had so very few memories of her life before the hospital. No one ever stayed in the wing long. They usually lost their battle with their illnesses within weeks of being placed in the wing.

The hallway momentarily shook, causing the pictures on the walls to become off-centered and several objects could be heard shattering as they fell to the ground. Sawyer looked at the ceiling confused. The wing of the hospital was beneath the helipad and that there was always a thump when a helicopter landed, but nothing that hard. Reasoning that they must have been making an emergency landing she continued on.

Her room awaited her at the very back of the wing, in a way giving her a bit more privacy than the others. Despite her family's money her room was no bigger than any of the other patients' and looked virtually the same. Bland colored walls, matching floor and ceiling, medical equipment shoved into the corners, waiting to be needed. A thin, white, nearly translucent curtain split the room into two halves. The one nearest to the door was her half of the room, and the one against the far wall was her roommate's, her body's outline and bed barely visible through the curtain. All was quite except for the steading beating of the roommate's heart monitor. Each ping was as comforting as it was painful. A relief that the sleeping girl was still alive and heartbreaking to know that the poor, young thing would live another day trapped in her unconscious state.

"TV on," said Sawyer as she curled onto the hospital bed. A section of the wall opposite of the bed lit up and the holographic image of a female newscaster appeared.

"Astrologists predict that the solar tsunamis will be continuing every four to six hours the remainder of the day. Citizens are advised to use extreme caution when going outside during daylight hours."

Sawyer stretched out on her bed and began to doze off as the newscaster continued on, drowning out the blips of the heart monitor. It was only a few moments before she was gently shaken awake.

"Miss St. Cloud," a man with a faint Indian accent said. "You need to wake up." His hand was on her shoulder.

Sawyer sighed and sat up. "Yes? What is it, Dr. Gupta?" She kept her voice kind and tried to hide her annoyance with her doctor for waking her as she rubbed her eyes.

Dr. Gupta, a middle aged Indian man with thinning, greying hair and comically large bifocals, gave her an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to have woken you, but we're overcrowded and I was hoping you would allow us to use your bed."

"Sure," Sawyer agreed reluctantly, sliding out of bed. "But where am I going to stay?"

"You'll have your bed back in a few hours," he explained. "We'll just be using it for minor patient checkups. They'll be in and out in no time."

Sawyer tousled her hair about, yawing. "I picked the wrong time to nap."

Dr. Gupta chuckled and walked to the door, gesturing to someone outside. A male nurse pulled a gurney into the room with a female nurse pushing from behind. They moved the gurney next to Sawyer's bed and carefully moved an unconscious man onto it.

Sawyer looked him over before coming over to Dr. Gupta. "I know I'm not a doctor, that's your job, but this guy doesn't appear to fall into the 'in and out' category."

"He was given a sedative before being brought here," Dr. Gupta said thanking and excusing the two nurses. "He should be awake within twenty minutes. If I don't find anything wrong, he'll be released."

"I see," said Sawyer, sitting down in the nearby visitor's chair, crossing her legs and relaxing.

Dr. Gupta looked to her with a raised brow. "I'm afraid you must leave, Miss St. Cloud. I cannot do the examination with you in the room."

Sawyer rolled her eyes, she wanted to laugh, "Who am I going to tell about what goes on here? The nurses, the wall, Sleeping Beauty over there?" she jabbed a finger in the direction of her roommate. "Just do what you have to do. I'm not asking you to tell me what you find."

Knowing it was pointless to argue with her further, Dr. Gupta gave in. He proceeded to perform his examination with Sawyer watching him carefully as he worked, turning her head away pretending to be looking somewhere else whenever the physician glanced back at her.

He pulled out a stethoscope from his pocket and placed it on one side of the man's chest and then moved it over to the other. Dr. Gupta paused before repeating the action a second and then a third time. His voice was soft and hesitant. "Miss St. Cloud? Could you come here for a moment? I need you to double check something." He laughed sheepishly. "I'm afraid these old ears aren't what they use to be."

"Sure. What's the problem?" asked Sawyer. She got up from the chair and Dr. Gupta handed her the stethoscope.

"Listen to this," he told her as she placed the buds into her ears. "Do you hear the heartbeat?" Sawyer listened carefully as Dr. Gupta placed the chest piece over the left side of the man's chest. _THUD thud THUD thud._ The loud, steady beating of the heart could easily be heard but she swore she could also hear a second beating, but it was quiet and seemed further away, like an echo or... "And now to this," Dr. Gupta moved the stethoscope to the right side of the man's chest. Again, Sawyer heard _THUD thud THUD thud_. Two separate beatings, one loud and one soft.

"Two hearts?" she asked, not sure whether to trust her own hearing.

"That's what I thought it sounded like," he confirmed as he took the stethoscope back from her. "I wonder why he has it."

"Wouldn't it be beneficial? Two hearts, more blood circulation?"

"Yes, but the risks would far outweigh any benefits. It wouldn't be as simple as just sticking a second heart into the chest cavity. Muscles would have to be moved, veins cuts and fused, the entire body would have to be rewired head to toe for the full benefits to be achieved. The surgery would take days, and there is always the risk that hearts would come out of synch and develop their own rhythm."

"What about a genetic mutation? Could have been born with it?" Sawyer tried.

"No, it is unheard of for two hearts to become full developed and functional."

"He's an alien?"

Dr. Gupta paused contemplating the thought. "Possibly, but I've never seen an alien this...human looking before."

"If it's not that it has to be cosmetic. Bored, eccentric people with too much free time and money do a lot of crazy stuff just because they can," Sawyer gestured to her violet eyes. "Mum had my irises dyed purple when I was a baby because she believed brown was too plain for a St. Cloud."

"I suppose," Dr. Gupta shook his head and muttered. "The insanity of some people - it borders on suicidal."

Sawyer simply nodded and returned to the visitor's chair. She watched with interest as Dr. Gupta did everything but 'ooh' and 'awe' at his patient. He wouldn't tell her anything further but she assumed from the look on his face and the way he scribbled down notes that the two hearts were only the tip of the iceberg when it came to oddities about the patient.

After five minutes he set down his clipboard and turned so that Sawyer couldn't see what he was doing. She craned her neck and leaned over the side of the chair to see but only succeeded in causing the chair to lose balance and sending herself crashing onto the linoleum floor below. Shaking the sting away from the side of her body, she looked up to see Dr. Gupta slipping a vial filled with a thick, dark red liquid into the pocket of his lab coat and pulling the sleeve of the unconscious man's jacket and shirt down his arm.

"Everything appears to be in order," he lied, badly.

Still on the floor Sawyer gave a half-shrug. 'If you say so,' she was trying to convey without words.

"Uh, yes, well," he stammered. "I-I need to go check on the other patients. When he awakens from the sedative call the nurses and we'll have him moved to a different room." Grabbing the clipboard and giving the pocket with the test tube a quick pat to assure it was still there the elderly doctor hurriedly left the room.

Sawyer waited on the floor until she was sure he wouldn't return before getting up. She moved over to the bed to give her own examination of her temporary second roommate. Strange was the only word she could summon up to describe him. He was gangly looking, with limbs that didn't seem to fit to the rest of his body, his face youthful, on the edge handsome, with unruly dark hair partially covering his face. The tweed jacket, bracers and bow tie combo resembled an ensemble of a 20th century college professor and made him appear much older than his face did. The tan work boots, however, seemed very out of place and mismatched compared to the rest of his clothes.

'Who in their right mind wears a bow tie?' she thought. She undid the bow, pulling it away from the unconscious man before retying the blue ribbon around her own neck. After taking a look at herself with a small compact mirror she made an exaggerated gagging noise. It could have been that bow ties just don't work with hospital gowns, or maybe it was the fact that bow ties should only be made in the color black and should only be worn at formal events. Either way, it made her look like a clown. She yanked the bow tie off and proceeded to wrapped and unwrapped the fabric around her hands in a bored fashion, choosing to hold onto it instead of trying to put it back on to its owner's body.

The television had remained on through Dr. Gupta examination, the news broadcast had ended and the usual early morning talk show had started and gone on. There was a woman talking to the show's host, some actress Sawyer didn't recognize, admitting that the rumors she had been engaging in an inter-species relationship were true.

The audience began to boo her and the host was utterly at a loss for words before the show was cut and replaced by a test card. Sawyer winced; another person whose life had been ruined because they felt the need to confess their personal lives to the world. It was sad, but private lives are called that for a reason.

xxx

"AMY! RORY!" the man yelled jolting awake like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. He jerked up, eyes darting around confused and panting hard, struggling for air.

Sawyer jumped, taken back by his outburst. "Easy there," she kept her voice steady. "There's no Amy or Rory here. Calm down, I'm going to call the nurses for you."

"Nurses? I'm in a hospital?" he asked. "Oh, this isn't good, this is very not good. Has anyone examined me yet?"

Before Sawyer could answer the man was already swinging his legs over the side of the bed to get off.

"Whoa!" She cried, rushing over to him and grabbing his shoulders. "You need to stay down. I don't know what happened, but you didn't look so good when they brought you in here. Yes, you're in a hospital, St. Cloud Royal Hospital. Dr. Gupta examined you a few minutes ago. I think he may have taken some blood for testing."

"_Blood?!_" The man stared at her horrified, fighting to get up.

"You need to stay down!" cried Sawyer as she struggled to keep him on the bed. For such a lanky man he was unnaturally strong. Her tenacity paid off and she was able to force him to sit back down onto the bed.

She reached over for the call button to summons the nurses but stopped when the man gasped in pain. He wrapped his arms around himself, sucking in lungs full of air through gritted teeth. "No, no, no, no," he muttered, his voice shaking.

"Are you all right?" Sawyer asked. She touched the man gently on the shoulder, trying to comfort him as she had seen so many doctors and nurses do in the past. As she her hand touched the man's jacket, it sank into it, like touching mud. Alarmed, she yanked her hand away, her palm coming back covered with a pale, fleshy goo. She shook the gunk off her hand. "What the-?"

Before she could finish her sentence she watched in horror as the man's jacket changed color and seemed to melt off him. His entire body followed the path of his jacket, losing its shape and form and collapsing in on itself until all that was left was a massive pasty, white puddle of the goo that spilt off the edges of the bed.

The pieces clicked together. "Oh, God," she breathed, "You're a Ganger!"

The puddle didn't respond.

Sawyer gulped and held her hand out over the puddle. "Listen, I can help you get out of here, but you need to pull yourself together. If any of the staff see you're a Ganger they'll call in the military and have you decommissioned on sight." She spoke every word to him softly trying to keep her own emotions under control. If there was one thing she learned from her years of captivity in the hospital was that if the care giver is calm the patient is more likely to be calm.

"NO!" the Ganger's voice screamed out in fear as a mouth formed from the Flesh. "Not again! Please, not again!" The voice trembled and a hand shot out of the puddle, grabbing onto Sawyer's wrist tightly.

The newly formed hand felt clammy against her skin and Sawyer froze. "That's right, just like that. Keep trying," she encouraged, keeping her voice in a soothing and comforting manner despite the disgust.

The Ganger released his grip and the hand melted back into Flesh. Sawyer gasped, "No! No giving up, you can do this!" She glanced at her door nervously, ran over, and engaged the electric lock. The last thing they needed was to have one of the nurses come in. When she looked back, the Ganger had reformed himself, his skin was pasty white and his face didn't look quite right, but it was vast improvement from the puddle.

"Are all right?" she asked again, cautiously approaching.

Nodding slowly, the Ganger's face reverted back to a perfectly normal appearance and his skin darkened in tone. "No nurses?" he asked.

"No nurses," Sawyer confirmed.

"Good," he breathed. He tried to get up again this time slower and calmer.

"What happened to you there? Gangers don't normally fall to pieces like that."

"My body isn't stable, I'm being held together by bit of luck and willpower." He looked down at himself, felt his chest and stomach, patted his legs and arms, and then his face. "I feel lighter," he stated abruptly. "About twenty pounds lighter."

Sawyer pointed to the floor beneath the bed where the Flesh that had fallen to the floor rested. "I think you may have forgotten part of your..." she struggled to finish the sentence but finally blurted it out. "...Body."

He looked to where she pointed. "Ah, now that would explain it." He knelt down, brushing his fingers against the puddle. The Flesh fidgeted at his touch and started to disappear as it was absorbed back into the Ganger. "Much better," he grinned and stood up, successfully shaking off the whole 'falling apart' episode as nothing.

Sawyer gave a relieved smile.

"But I'm still missing something," the Ganger mused. As he thought his hand instinctively went to the collar of his shirt. "My bow tie!"

"That one's my fault. I was playing with it while you were sedated." Sawyer's her face flushed with embarrassment as held out her arm showing the blue ribbon still wrapped around her wrist.

"Fascinating," the Ganger said. He removed the bow tie from her wrist and closely inspected it. "If a piece of the Flesh is separated from the main body it becomes a separate entity, able to hold its form despite the condition of the main body. Good to know for future reference." He put the ribbon back around his neck and tied it.

"We got to get you out of here," Sawyer said suddenly. As soon as the Ganger's hands were free she grabbed him and tugged him to the door. "I meant what I said about the nurses."

"Now hold on a tick, if I had a blood taken I need to get it back."

"Don't worry about it. Once Dr. Gupta gets a look at your blood he'll realize you're a Ganger and pitch it. If you aren't here, he can't do much else. Now come on!" Sawyer ordered.

As she reached for the door lock the lights and the electronics in the room began to flicker and Sawyer froze as everything turned off at once, leaving them stranded in the quiet darkness.

"More solar flares. They're interfering with the power grids," the Ganger commented, the backup generators kicking on as he did, only returning half of the lights.

The heart monitor on the other side of the room powered back on, instantly flat lining. Sawyer tensed while the Ganger looked back worriedly. The long, drawn out beep continued for a few moments, before finally returning to a steady beeping.

Sawyer sighed and reached again for the lock to disengage it, but nothing happened. "The locks are electric and the generators are only meant to run the lights and medical equipment," she groaned, giving the door a halfhearted tug to see if it would open. "Looks like you're stuck here until they get everything fully operational again."

* * *

**A/N: Wow, I finally updated! It just took... a month and a half. Sorry about that to anyone who's still there, my life took a wrong turn somewhere. Two broken cars, several thousand dollars, and an impromptu trip to the hospital later and I'm back! Thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, or are following my story. Hopefully now I'll be able to update more! Not entirely happy with this, but I've spent the last week staring at it, trying to edit it and all that did was make me even more unhappy with it.**

**Reviews equal love. Praise, criticism, or anything in between, it all helps in the end and gives me encouragement to continue.**

******Tried my best to clear up and fix any spelling and grammar mistakes, but I'm no professional and very much human, so it's not perfect.**

**Doctor Who and its characters are copyright of the ****British Broadcasting Corporation** (the BBC).  


**Everything else is copyright of Keira Anne**


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